July 29: The Writing, Some Pig, Prayer for Guidance

Zuckerman stared at the writing on the web.  Then he murmured the words "Some Pig."  Then he looked at Lurvy.  Then they both began to tremble.  Charlotte, sleepy after her night's exertions, smiled as she watched.  Wilbur came and stood directly under the web.

Charlotte easily fools Zuckerman and Lurvy with her writing.  Neither pay attention to her.  Wilbur, standing underneath Charlotte's "miracle," becomes the star of the farm.  Nobody pays attention to the little gray spider sitting in the corner of the web.  Wilbur's life is saved by language.

I think that's a wonderful metaphor for successful writing.  If a poem or short story or essay is really good, the writer fades into the background, and the reader is absorbed into the miracle of the words.  I feel this often with my favorite writers and books.  The first time I read The Cloister Walk by Kathleen Norris.  Mr. Ives' Christmas by Oscar Hijuelos.  Satan Says by Sharon Olds.  I could go on.  Each of these books were little miracles to me.  Good writing that became a part of my DNA in a way.

I've had an idea for a new book I want to write.  I've had the idea for quite some time.  It's a book that I would want to read.  I'm not sure if anybody else would be interested in it.  It's a strange notion, but I simply can't seem to shake it.  That tells me that it's something I need to pursue.  I need to spin this web, so to speak.

Thus, my prayer tonight is for guidance.  I need help with my idea.  Help getting started.  Help writing.  I want to have fun with this book.  I want it to be a somewhat joyful experience.  I'm not asking for prayers for myself.  That would be hubris.  And there are a lot more important issues in the world in need of prayer.  The Middle East.  Liberia.  The Ukraine.  Pick one and pray.

I'm simply looking for a little miracle in my life, something that makes me step back in wonder.

Saint Marty wants to see SOME PIG.

I'm looking for a coincidence

October 5: Saints Flora and Faustina Kowalska

I am writing this post the day after October 5.  October 5, one of the most important days on the Roman calendar.  It is the feast day of saints Flora and Faustina Kowalska.  Flora was a 14th century French nun who was gifted with many miracles:  during an ecstatic episode, she took no food or drink for three weeks; during a period of prayer, she levitated four feet and stayed suspended before a crowd of people; she suffered the stigmata at times; and she could prophesize about the future.  Faustina was a 20th century nun who, after receiving a vision of Christ, promoted the establishment of Divine Mercy Sunday.  Like Flora, Faustina also had ecstatic visions and prophecies, and she also received the stigmata.  These two women are celebrated on October 5.

But what makes this day extra special, one of the most important days of the whole year, is that it is my birthday.

I'll give you time to pause and bask in the glow of my awesomeness.

Granted, my awesomeness does not involve bleeding from my hands or feet, hovering above a room-full of people, predicting earthquakes in Guatemala, or having visions of or conversations with Jesus Christ or the Virgin Mary, but I'm still awesome.

Among the things my friends and family and coworkers did to celebrate me:  1) held a potluck with a buffet of my favorite dishes; 2) called me/e-mailed me birthday wishes; 3) gave me a book I wanted but had forgotten I wanted; and 4) baked me a cake that proclaimed me the winner of the 2010 Nobel Prize for Literature.

In the evening, I attended a school concert in which my daughter was performing, and, at the end of the day, I consumed a large piece of my Nobel cake and allowed myself to fall asleep completely assured of my wonderful awesomeness.

Everybody should have birthdays like that, allowing themselves, for 24 hours, to be convinced of their self-worth and incredible talent.  A 24-hour vacation from reality, once a year.

In reality, a lot of people whom I love and who love me made me feel really special today, and you really can't ask for a better birthday miracle.  Unless it happens to be winning the Nobel Prize for Literature.

Which reminds me...

NOBEL WATCH:  Some Nigerian or Kenyan writer whose name I can't spell or pronounce has suddenly shot up on the list of favorites to win, starting at around number 77 and sitting now at number one or two.  Not happy about it.  Cormac McCarthy has also shot up from number 60 or so to number one or two.  I wouldn't be devastated if Cormac wins.  If I can't have it, he's the next logical choice.  Stay tuned.  There's still hope.